Hank GreenMilton Mamet: Walking Dead slash AU
by TheRussianWay
Summary: Hank Green (from Vlogbrothers/SciShow) takes the place of Andrea in Milton's death scene... (Mild violence and non-con homosexual sex.) (Not based on Hank Green's real characteristics- this couldn't be further from the real him.)


The Governor left the room, rage still burning in his eyes.  
Milton hit the floor. The colour drained from his face and he was trying to form words from the noises coming out of his throat.  
Hank looked at the advisor in disbelief. Disbelief that Philip Blake, the man he'd once looked up to, could do this. Disbelief that he was helpless whilst Milton was accepting his downfall. Disbelief that Milton Mamet was nearly dead.

"B-behind you… I dropped… p-pliers…"  
If Hank had been free, his instinct would have been to push Milton's glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. He would look in his eyes, pale clashing with dark. But now those eyes only showed fear and exhaustion.  
"Slide… your right –_cough- _foot back…" his voice was getting weaker.  
Hank did so. He wanted to show Milton his loyalty- he wasn't just a useless, bullshit-sheltered geek. Milton had always looked after him, and now the tables had turned Hank had to step up.  
The tip of his boot touched metal, and he dragged his foot forward. The pliers slid to the front of the makeshift torture chair.  
Hank froze as he realised he couldn't pick them up.  
"Shoes… off…" Milton clutched his stomach with his left hand; his right hand fell to the floor beside him.  
Hank shoved off his shoes and sock and attempted to lift the pliers between his feet. Three attempts later, they were still on the floor.  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Hank let out a small sob. "I'm sorry, Milton, I've never been any good for you. Always holding you back. This is all my fault."  
Milton closed his eyes. "No. You are… amazing. Just… stay alive… please."  
Hank pushed his feet around the metal, catching it this time. He lifted his legs up, and pushed his wrists against the restraints. The tips of his fingers fumbled with the handles and he let go of the breath he just realised he'd been holding as he gripped the pliers.  
He looked at the man on the floor, and their eyes met.  
"Thank you. You've saved me so many times." One wrist freed. "I owe you everything." A low groan from the dying man. "I will kill Philip Blake." Ghostly pale eyelids fluttered and closed. A chest moved up and down slightly. Hank watched it, willing it to carry on. "I love you." Two wrists were free and movement stopped in one man. Milton's face decolourised to a mottled blue.  
"No, no, no, no, no, no!" Hank's voice broke. "Don't be… no… fuck, please…" Hank checked for a pulse. A tear ran down his face, getting caught in the stubble.

Hank must have been sat there for about 5 minutes- not that he'd have known. Two dead fingers lifted from the floor. For one twisted moment, Hank thought Milton may have woken up. But the moment the milky-blue eyes met his, he knew that the man he once counted on was gone, and something evil had ripped out his soul and settled in its place.  
Part of Hank's mind was nagging at him, trying to pull him away from the corpse. But the best part was blank. He didn't move or blink- he just stared. It didn't even register fully when the body started shuffling beneath him, letting out a low growl.  
Just when the mouth snapped at his jugular, Hank half-crawled, half-pushed himself along the floor in a frantic grasp for the pliers. It seemed almost funny that the same tool Milton had given Hank to save his life was now going to be jammed into Milton's head.  
Not for the first time that night, the lanky American's fingers grabbed desperately at a bit of metal. The last part happened quickly- grab, spin, swing, stab.

Milton Mamet had reached his end. His body was just lay there, legs at crooked angles, arms outstretched, face down.  
Hank had a sudden urge to laugh. Milton would normally pick himself up quickly and blush slightly. He tripped over his own feet often. The one thing that could make Hank smile every time, even in these times, was the pink spots that appeared on Milton's face when he embarrassed himself.  
Half-forgetting the day's events, Hank helped Milton up. He expected to see the blush, but the man was all dead eyes and grey cheeks.  
"Come on man, wake up. I'll let you use the lab at the same time as me today!" Hank shook the body to coax out a laugh. Or anything, really. Milky eyes gazed at him blankly.  
"Stop messing me around! Is it 'cause I told you I love you? We both know it's mutual." Hank laughed. "_Apocalypse lovin', happens so fast…" _ He couldn't conjure up another line. Hank stood in front of the chair Milton's body was slumped in. "I know you want this, Mamet. I've known for moths. The look you get when I stretch, when you think I'm not looking. I'll bet even the fucking Governor knows." He played with his belt under his grimy old stupid geek t-shirt.  
"I want you, Hank." The words came from the human's mouth, but in a different, lower voice.  
"I know." A high, cold laugh echoed around the dark room.

"Come on, science boy, get on the floor." No one moved. Hank waited. He took a step forward, snaking his belt around his hips and tossing it to the side. Suddenly he ran towards the chair and shoved Milton onto the ground, face first again.  
"I told you to get on the floor, you stupid wimp! You can't even do that by yourself, no wonder the Governor never fucked your pussy ass!" Hank screamed. His voice now dropped to a whisper, "I'll be polite, Mamet, taking your trousers off for you. But you need to work hard in a minute, okay?"  
The voice came back. "Yes, sir."  
Hank didn't care if he hurt Milton a bit. It would be nothing compared to what was coming up.

Both pairs of trousers were gone in no time, and Hank's erection was pressing against Milton's back. He slid down to push the tip of his cock into Milton's tight entrance. The lack of lubricant caused uncomfortable friction, but Hank couldn't stop. He cried out, pain mixed with pleasure. 'How must Milton be feeling…' flitted across his mind, but he found himself either not caring or too distracted to show any concern.  
He pushed his cock in fully, and a rough groan emitted from the back of his throat. He thrusted into the lifeless thing mercilessly, flesh slapping loudly against flesh. Hank was faster now, moaning with every thrust. His head dropped forward and his glasses clattered to the floor. He was on his hands and knee, the friction pushing him closer and closer. He felt the warmth spreading up his cock. He pushed harder, deeper, his mind fogged with one aim.  
Groaning with each breath now, the man was close. He focused on the figure underneath him and cried out as he exploded inside it.

He lay panting for a few minutes until he had recovered enough to get up. He looked down as his mind cleared. Everything came back to him: the Governor punching him, waking up in the chair, Milton being stabbed, Milton dying, Milton turning, Milton dying, Milton being fucked.  
He let out a shrill laugh edging away from the body, picking up a knife from a corner of the room that he'd only just realised was there.  
He raised the blade above his head.


End file.
